


The Busy Bean Coffee Shop

by Silent_So_Long



Series: otpprompts [37]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Digital Art, Embedded Images, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr: otpprompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 19:50:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4234404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard, Paul and meetings in a coffee shop. (AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Busy Bean Coffee Shop

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the following prompt left on tumblr’s otpprompts: [Person A is the sole employee on the late shift at a coffee shop. Person B is a regular at said coffee shop; they rarely speak to person A but always tip extremely generously, usually ten or twenty dollars. One night, person B leaves a note paper clipped to their tip, something along the lines of ‘You look nice tonight.’ The next night when person B comes in for their coffee, they find a note written back on their cup. From then on persons A and B communicate by leaving each other notes on coffee cups and in the tip jar; eventually one note reads ‘Would you like to go out with me?’](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/122017907972/person-a-is-the-sole-employee-on-the-late-shift-at)
> 
> This fic is severely AU. 
> 
> For the purposes of this fic, I had to change the currency from dollars to Euros, as my OTP are (obviously) German, not American. 
> 
> The Eiskaffee mentioned as being Richard’s usual, is German for Ice cream Coffee. According to the recipe I Googled, it’s made from 1 1/2 quarts strong instant coffee, 2 scoops of ice cream, whipped cream, and chocolate chips or krokant. 
> 
> The limerick that Paul scribbles hastily for Richard is taken from the Steven Spielberg movie ‘Jaws’; Robert Shaw’s character Quint recites the same limerick in an attempt to taunt Chief Brody’s wife, just before the crew of the Orca take to sea for the first time. (I probably don‘t really need to say this, y’know, but I really love this film! XD )

[ ](http://s1368.photobucket.com/user/paulchen2/media/busybeanBEFUNKY_zpsgl4v85ta.jpg.html)

Paul moved tiredly away from the coffee machine with an uncovered yawn, glad for the fact that there was no customers in the Busy Bean at that time to watch him, or berate him for potential rudeness. He scrubbed weary fingers against equally weary eyes, before he glanced up at the clock; it was just past half past ten at night. He sighed then, glad for the fact that he had only twenty minutes left before his shift ended. He was ready to go home, to slide into bed and forget about the world and rainy Berlin streets for the night whilst in the arms of restful, blissful sleep.

Paul glanced up when the door to the coffee shop dinged open, admitting a man hard on the heels of a blast of cold, rainy air through the gap the door left behind; some of the droplets of rain splatted against the mat and reached past it, to leave shining wet gobbets against the black and white tiled floor. Paul stifled a groan when he caught sight of the tiles themselves; although it wasn’t his latest customer’s fault, the floor was in desperate need of a scrub with a wet mop, as the tiles were liberally filled with muddy boot-prints that had long since dried against the tiles.

On reflex, he checked the clock again, even though he’d already made that motion mere seconds before the customer had squished his way wetly through the door; Paul sighed, this time with relief. He knew that his current customer was always the last of the day, and therefore, also, the last of his shift. He would have time to serve him, and clean the floor before he locked the Busy Bean tightly against the night. 

He busied himself with wiping the countertop as the man plodded further into the room, head bowed as it always was, hair plastered flat and messy against his scalp. His disheveled hairstyle did little to diminish the other man’s good looks; Paul had seen him on enough occasions by now to know just how attractive he was. 

As the other man settled at the counter, Paul tried to remember how long the man had been patronising the Busy Bean; his quick mental calculations gave him an answer of roughly four months. Despite his seeming loyalty to the Busy Bean itself given the sheer volume and regularity of his visits, Paul knew very little about the other man, other than his name; the late-night customer had left his name-tag from the hospital on his shirt once and Paul had surreptitiously and curiously read it - Dr Richard Kruspe. 

Other than that, Paul didn’t know, and couldn’t determine, whether the doctor was gay or straight, or whether he was married or not. Judging by the man’s hand, however, he had been married at some point, faint tan lines marking out the place where a ring used to be. Paul wondered whether the marriage had been a thing of the other man's past, or whether Richard merely took it off for work. He didn’t like to ask; it didn’t seem prudent to pry into other people’s private lives, especially when said other person was still a relative stranger. They’d barely exchanged many words beyond the requisite pleasantries often exchanged by customers and baristas; Paul knew that he wouldn’t be able to explain his interest in marriages or orientations, if challenged by the other man, even discreetly. The mere thought of revealing his own attraction towards Richard sent a hot flush of embarrassment rocketing through Paul’s body and he turned away briefly, to hide the flush that undoubtedly stained his cheeks as he tossed his sopping wet dish-cloth into the sink behind the counter. 

Paul then wandered over to where Richard was plumping himself heavily down at his usual stool in the furthest, darkest corner of the coffee shop, shadows darkening the skin beneath the other man’s eyes; once again, Paul found himself wincing in sympathy at Richard’s seemingly all-pervasive tiredness. He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t seen the other man looking almost asleep on his feet. 

“Hallo, Richard,” Paul said, with his friendliest smile. “Would you like your usual?” 

“Hey, Paul; yes, my usual, please, if you would,” Richard replied, and Paul was glad to see that the other man at least attempted a smile.

Whilst it wasn’t his normal grin, it still was a decent attempt at it; Paul had only truly seen Richard smile properly once, but it was enough to know that the other man was in possession of a nice grin. 

“Coming right up,” Paul nodded, with a nod and a grin. 

Richard’s nod in return was a little delayed, but present all the same; he was resting his head upon his forearms by the time that Paul returned, carrying Richard‘s Eiskaffee. Paul stared at the top of the other man’s still-damp head, reluctant to wake him if he really proved to be asleep, yet Richard stirred, undoubtedly roused by the strong smell of the coffee wafting around him. Richard's head raised, face revealed in the midst of a wide yawn that bisected his face. 

“Your Eiskaffee,” Paul said, as he pushed the mug towards the other man with a slightly concerned smile.

“Thanks, Paul,” Richard said, as he reached for the mug and lifted it gratefully from the counter.

Richard did little more than hold the cup nestled between his hands, as though drawing comfort from the smell that wafted from the top of the mug. Paul nodded and moved away, busying himself with a fresh, clean rag, ran briefly beneath the tap behind the counter. He continued to wipe the counter free of sticky marks and coffee stains, and something that Paul hoped was a smear of cherry-pie filling and not blood. He shuddered, and washed the cloth beneath the running waters of the tap once more, and by the time that he returned, Richard had finished his coffee and was just rising wearily to his feet. snarling fingers through his hair to push the strands back up into messy damp spikes. 

“Thanks, Paul,” Richard said, as he tipped his head towards the coffee. “Lovely coffee, as usual. Left you my usual tip,.” 

Paul started to protest, yet the comment died on his lips all the same; it was clear that Richard, as usual, wasn’t listening. Paul knew that he wasn’t doing it out of ignorance, merely tiredness; protesting did little good, anyway, as Richard wouldn’t take no for an answer. Paul had tried before and failed. Richard always had been a generous tipper, handing Paul twenty Euros without prompting or needing to. That night was no exception and Paul felt guilty once again for even accepting the tip. He watched as Richard made his way out into the rain again, one hand raised in goodbye, and a glance and smile over his shoulder at Paul. Paul was left alone with the drumming of the rain upon the roof, and his thoughts, as he slowly and methodically closed up for the night. 

:::

Paul didn’t see Richard again for a few nights which wasn’t unusual in and of itself; Richard was regular, but not every-night regular. His visits usually were spaced three nights apart, whenever he had the late shift in the hospital emergency room. Paul had worn a new shirt to work that evening, bought that day with Richard’s last tip. Paul always ensured that he treated himself to something nice with the money that the other man left him. Paul wasn’t sure, but he thought that Richard’s eyes had focussed more than usual upon him that night, gaze warming into an almost appreciative smile before the ghost of a grin fled from Richard's face, chased away by the weight of his tiredness.

Paul turned away, and he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed; in a way, he supposed that he’d partially worn the shirt to attract Richard's attention. Even though he wasn’t sure about the other man’s sexuality, or whether he even liked Paul in the way that Paul wanted him to, he still would have liked a little bit of recognition; it was no secret, at least to Paul himself, that he was attracted to Richard. 

He went through the motions of making Richard’s usual cup of Eiskaffee, adding a little extra whipped cream than usual by accident. He cursed yet still took the mug to Richard, hoping that the other man wouldn’t notice, or if he did that he wouldn’t complain too loudly. He was surprised when Richard hummed out an appreciative note after taking his first sip, smile suddenly warming his face as though he was pleased. 

“Really nice, tonight,” he said, and Paul couldn’t help but think that Richard meant something else, as well as the coffee. 

“Thank you,” Paul said, with a smile of his own.

Richard nodded, before he fell into his customary silence again. Paul continued cleaning, as Richard sipped occasionally at his coffee; Paul had to smile every now and again at the occasional pleased, almost orgasmic, sounds that Richard made over his coffee, each one sounding ripped from him by accident and definitely not planned. He tried to remember how much cream he’d put into the coffee so that he could replicate his inadvertent mistake in the future. 

Richard left at his usual time, sliding the price of the coffee and a larger tip than usual towards Paul - 25 Euros instead of his normal 20. Paul almost did object to that but the note hastily scribbled upon a coffee shop napkin stopped him dead in his tracks. In Richard’s somewhat messy handwriting - unsurprising for a doctor - was written - You look really nice, tonight, Paul. 

Paul felt a warmth flooding through him at that; he felt relieved that Richard had noticed his shirt, and the extra effort he’d put in to look good for the other man had not been wasted, after all. 

:::

Richard yawned his way into the coffee shop a few nights after leaving Paul his message, feet dragging slightly upon the ground with his weariness. As usual, he was the only customer in the coffee shop that late at night yet he welcomed the solitude after the noise and bustle of his shift at the hospital. He smiled slightly when he saw the handsome barista standing behind the counter, habitual wet dishcloth in his hand which he used to wipe away stains and sticky marks left behind by previous customers. 

The other man was once again wearing the same shirt he’d been wearing the other night, a dark blue, soft velvet material that seemed to bring out the other man’s eyes and lighter highlights in his hair. Whilst the other man's skin was still pale, understandable given the general atmosphere in Berlin, the darkness of his shirt did not make him looked washed out and sickly; instead, it made him look palely mysterious and more good-looking than ever. 

Richard settled himself down behind the counter, and wondered again whether the other man was gay. He hadn’t seen evidence of a wedding ring on the other man’s finger, and he wondered if it was too much to hope that Paul would actually be single and interested in him. He was too tired to deal with it, too tired even to know how to broach the subject with the other man without seeming abrupt or interrogative. 

The message that he’d scrawled upon the napkin the night before had been a step taken in the direction he wanted to go in. He was hoping that it might prompt Paul into inadvertently revealing something about himself, whilst hopefully reciprocating Richard’s overtures, or perhaps rejecting them, if he so wished. He thought it easier to write what he wanted to say down on a napkin; if he gained some kind of positive response then he knew that he had a chance, but if Paul chose not to respond, to perhaps tear the message up and throw it away, or worse, burn it, then at least Richard would have his answer 

“How are you tonight?” Paul asked, attracting Richard's attention to him again.

“Tired, as usual,” Richard replied, with a vague and sleepy smile at Paul.

“You know, for a doctor, you don’t take good care of yourself,’ Paul remarked, with what looked to be genuine concern in his eyes. “If you don’t mind me saying.”

That at least roused a laugh from Richard, before he shook his head at Paul.

“I don’t mind,” he said. “And it’s true, anyway. You think I’d know better, y’know?” 

“Well, you’ll always have coffee to get you through anything, right?” Paul asked, with a hesitant smile at him.

Although it wasn’t the first smile that Paul had ever given him, it most certainly was the shyest, and most hopeful that Richard had ever seen on the other man’s face. It almost was as though Paul was hoping that Richard would always patronise the coffee shop. 

“That’s right,” Richard said. “I don’t think I’d survive if I couldn’t come in here.” 

Paul grinned at that, and Richard again was reminded of how nice that grin actually was. 

“Well, I'd better keep up the good service then,” he said.

Richard almost said - I don’t come in for the service alone - but reluctantly thought better of it. He didn’t want to cause offence if the other man was not as gay as he hoped. He then realizes that brief though it was, the conversation he’d just had with the other man was the longest that they’d ever shared. He was surprised at that, even as Paul began moving about behind the counter, preparing Richard’s coffee without needing to be prompted. 

Richard’s eyes closed and he could feel his head starting to drop somewhere in the vicinity of his forearm which rested upon the counter before him, before he felt the faint brush of Paul’s fingers against the bare skin of his arm and the strong scent of his coffee wafting up around him. 

“Your coffee’s been sitting there for ages and the ice cream‘s turning to shit,” Paul said. “I almost exchanged it for another.” 

“Sorry; this one will be fine,” Richard said, as he reached for the coffee mug blearily.

His head still felt muzzy and indistinct from his un-planned nap, and as such, he almost missed the hasty message scrawled upon the napkin beneath the mug. Paul had already turned away, bland-faced and humming under his breath, when Richard forced his eyes focus enough to read the message that Paul had written. Paul’s writing was just as messy as Richard’s own, yet Richard thought the words were more written in haste and nervousness than through true scrappiness. 

You look good every time I see you - Paul had written, accompanied by a small and half-formed smiley face, as though the other man had been uncertain about its inclusion, whether it would seem trite or perhaps mocking. Instead, Richard thought the little happy face sweet and a nice touch and bolstered his own feelings of relieved happiness. That Paul had reciprocated his message was a relief, and that there was some hope of Paul being gay was also a good thing.

Richard hastily drank the remainder of his coffee, before he pulled another twenty Euro bill out of his wallet. He was disappointed that he didn’t have more yet that couldn’t exactly be helped that evening. He pulled another napkin towards him and began to write. 

:::

Paul watched the other man leave the coffee shop, and caught the suddenly happy grin that Richard threw over his shoulder, before the door clanged shut behind him. It seemed as though Richard had been complimented by Paul’s message; Paul was relieved, and glad that the other man had not taken offence and had obviously taken the note as the compliment it had been intended as. It gave him some hope that he’d read the situation correctly and that Richard must, indeed, have been hitting on him. He pulled the twenty Euro note towards him and discovered another message hastily scrawled upon a napkin. 

You should wear dark blue more often; it brings out your eyes - the note said.

Paul couldn’t help but feel a surge of joy pushing a grin upon his face at that; Richard had just delivered a compliment, further bolstering the hope filled idea that the other man was hitting on him. That night, when he left work, Paul still was grinning like an idiot. 

:::

And so the note exchanges began to become a regular thing, forming an odd and broken narrative between the two men. The silently exchanged messages mapped out their growing friendship with Paul often making Richard laugh with hastily scrawled jokes and dirty limericks, interspersing the silly rhymes with random facts about himself, about being interested in guitars and photography, his favourite books and types of music; Richard responded with his own interests, which ran similar to Paul’s, although without the photography. 

Paul also, in turn, found out that Richard had been married, but was now a lonely divorcee; Richard even offered up the information, freely given, that he was bisexual, with a marked preference for men. That gave Paul free reign to reveal that he was gay and currently single. 

One evening, Richard walked into the coffee shop, feeling more nervous than usual; he’d finally made up his mind to ask Paul out. His attraction to the other man had grown steadily, further encouraged by the steady flow of written jokes and information about Paul’s sexuality. Paul gave him his habitual smile when he entered and there was an undercurrent of warm and appreciative attraction beneath his grin. 

Richard settled down behind the counter and waited for his coffee to arrive. He had to laugh at the limerick that Paul had scribbled in his by now familiar scrawl on the napkin he slid along the counter with the coffee- Here lies the body of Mary Lee; died at the age of a hundred and three. for fifteen years she kept her virginity; not a bad record for this vicinity.

Richard still was smiling over it by the time that he’d finished the coffee and scribbled a note of his own; his hand shook a little with nervousness, as he slid both note and larger than usual tip towards Paul. 

“Bis bald, Paul,“ he said, with a wave of his hand and a grin over his shoulder. 

“Sure, Reesh, bis bald,” Paul replied, cheerily.

:::

Paul reached for Richard's note even before the other man had fully left the coffee shop, eager to find out what he’d written that day. His brow creased in sudden disbelief at the words written in an obviously nervous hand in black pen upon the stark white by comparison paper - ‘Are you free on Friday night? Dinner’s on me, if you are. Reesh.’

Paul looked up, eager to respond straight away, yet Richard had already left and a sudden surge of twisted disappointment rocketed through Paul's body at that. At least he knew why the other man had seemed more nervous, and jittery than usual - he’d been planning on asking Paul out. Paul immediately snatched a napkin from the pile and scribbled out his response, even though he knew that Richard was not due to return to the coffee shop for another few days. He still wanted to be prepared, to say the right thing in response to Richard's query, ready for delivery across the coffee-sticky counter. 

:::

Richard looked nervous when he came into the coffee shop on Thursday night; he almost seemed to find it difficult to meet Paul’s gaze. Paul had to feel sympathy for him; he’d been in that position enough times, uncertain of the other person’s reaction, expectant of rejection, yet in Paul’s case, such rejection was not going to be given. 

“Your usual?” he asked, breezily, as he slid the napkin towards Richard.

“Please,” Richard said, as he reached for the white piece of soft paper, with a baffled expression upon his face.

After all, their notes were exchanged at the end of the night, not at the beginning. Paul turned away and busied himself at the coffee machine, smiling at the sudden intake of breath he heard behind him. 

“Paul?” Richard's voice came next, sounding hushed, yet quietly jubilant. 

“Yeah?” Paul asked, as he mixed in a healthy dose of ice cream into the coffee expertly. 

“Do you really mean this?” Richard asked and it sounded as though he didn‘t quite believe what he‘d read. 

“I assume you mean my acceptance of a dinner date, then yes, I meant it,” Paul said. “I’d be honoured to have dinner with you, Reesh.” 

“Really?” Richard asked, and when Paul turned to face him again, Richard looked almost shell-shocked.

“Don’t look so surprised, Reesh,” Paul laughed as he slid the coffee cup towards the other man. “You almost look as though you expected a rejection.”

“I did,” Richard admitted with an embarrassed laugh.

“Why on earth for?” Paul asked as he leant against the counter to stare curiously at Richard. “I thought you would have guessed by now I was attracted to you.”

“I didn’t believe that someone like you would ever be interested in me,” Richard admitted, with an embarrassed smile. 

“I can tell you now, I am interested,” Paul said, with a laugh. “I like your company, and I find you very attractive. Plus, I happen to think that doctors are incredibly sexy.” 

Richard laughed himself at that and pushed one hand through his hair; he checked his movements and stared thoughtfully at where his wedding ring used to nestle.

“I’m divorced. My wife - my ex-wife - rejected me,” he said.

“Yes, and I've known that for quite a while. And it still didn’t affect my decision,” Paul pointed out. “Your wife’s loss, and my gain.” 

“Thank you,” Richard said,. yet Paul wasn’t certain as to whether the thanks were for Paul's words or his acceptance. 

“Where are you taking me?” Paul asked, next to cover the embarrassed silence. 

“Do you know the Grill Royal on Friedrichstraße?” Richard asked.

“I know of it, but I’ve never been,” Paul said, slowly. 

The restaurant had always seemed a little over-priced to him, filled with arty, well-heeled types that Paul didn’t usually associate with. He mustered up a smile, hoping that his hesitation didn’t make him seem like a snob, particularly if Richard‘s usual associates were the well-heeled type.

“It’s not my usual crowd, but I thought it’d make a nice change to try something a little different, y’know?” Richard surprised him by saying. 

Paul laughed at that, relief colouring his chuckles and turning them warmer. 

“What?” Richard asked, grinning despite his obvious confusion. 

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to laugh. I just didn’t want to seem like a snob,” Paul admitted. “They seem a bit ... you know, upper-class for me.”

“For me, too,” Richard said, with a laugh of his own. “In all honesty, I’d just be happy with a burger and chips, but I can’t take you to McDonald’s for a first date, can I?” 

“No, I suppose not. You can for the second date, if you really want to, though,” Paul said, as he tipped Richard a wink. 

Richard looked surprised at that, as though he hadn’t been hopeful of a second date at all. Paul felt worried suddenly, that he might have appeared a little too pushy. 

“I’ll remember that, if I haven’t scared you off. I’ll make reservations for Friday at seven, if that’s okay?” Richard asked. 

“Sounds good to me,” Paul replied, with a nod. “And I doubt you’ll scare me off. You haven’t yet, have you?” 

“True. Okay, see you on Friday then,” Richard said, with a grin that looked the happiest that Paul had ever seen upon his face. 

Paul couldn’t help but return the grin. 

:::

Paul stood alone outside the Grill Royal, nerves eating away at his gut like clawed knives, as he waited for Richard to arrive. Even though Paul himself had been early, he still expected Richard to be late or to not arrive at all. In time he saw Richard's dark haired head cutting through the crowds that wound their way along Friedrichstraße; Paul was smiling by the time that the other man reached him. 

“Hi, Paulchen; I’m not late, am I?” Richard asked, looking worried for a moment. 

“No, I was early,” Paul said, with a smile. 

“I’m glad I didn‘t scare you off. I promise I‘ll be better company than I am at the coffee shop,” Richard promised, with a smile of his own.

“Oh, I don’t know. You're pretty good company, even if you do solely communicate through napkins,” Paul said, as he tried, unsuccessfully, to hide his laughter behind a swiftly raised hand.

“Well, I won’t be doing that here. Unless you want me to, that is,” Richard said, with a sly smile. 

“Nah, that’d be weird, passing notes over the steak,” Paul pointed out.

Richard laughed at that, before he ushered Paul inside the restaurant. He was as good as his word, proving himself an interesting conversationalist, with lots of tales about his shifts at the hospital. Paul, in turn, kept Richard laughing with anecdotes about some of the crazier people that came into the coffee shop, such as the lady who always sneaked in a kitten in her handbag, yet denied its existence if anyone pointed out that she couldn’t have pets in the shop; Paul had often surreptitiously passed her small bowls of milk for the kitten’s consumption, on the sly. 

They lingered over the coffee and the dessert, talking quietly about music, comparing notes about chord progressions and key changes; in time, their evening came to an end and they could no linger over the dregs of their coffee, both rising reluctantly to wander from the restaurant. Paul was surprised when Richard reached out for his hand, linking his pinkie finger with Paul’s own. Whilst the contact was minimal, it felt strangely intimate to Paul and more than a little comfortably trusting. Paul smiled at Richard when he caught his eye, but said nothing; there was nothing he could have said, and nothing he wanted to say either. He was just content to be held even slightly by Richard. They walked to their cars; Richard, it turned out, had a beautiful BMW Z4 convertible, which Paul greatly admired. 

“It’s beautiful,” he said, as he ran one reverential hand over the bonnet.

“Thanks. I like it; it’s a good ride,” Richard said, proudly. 

“I’ll bet. Well, I suppose I’d best let you get home. You’re got an early start tomorrow, haven’t you?” Paul asked.

“Yeah,” Richard said, but it seemed as though he was reluctant to end the evening so soon. “I’ll see you at my usual time on Thursday.”

“I’ll be there,” Paul said, with a nod. 

“I’d really like to meet you again, y’know? But not at the coffee shop,” Richard said, hastily. “Perhaps we could do this again. I mean, a date, if you‘re still interested. And I won‘t take you to McDonald‘s.”

Paul looked up at Richard and saw a hint of uncertainty behind the other man’s attempt at a carefree smile, as though Richard was still worried at being rejected. Paul nodded, and hoped that it was interested enough without looking too stupidly eager. 

“I’d like that, Reesh,” he said. 

“We can always go the cinema,” Richard suggested. “There’s the latest Jurassic Park movie showing. You haven’t seen it, have you?” 

“Not yet,” Paul said, truthfully. “Although I had been planning on it.”

“Would you care to see it with me?” Richard asked.

“I would care to very much. Thanks, Reesh,” Paul replied, with a typically cheeky smile. 

Richard laughed at that, before he said - “Okay, so I’ll meet you at the coffee shop at seven next Tuesday? The cinema’s almost next door.” 

“Sure,” Paul said. 

Richard nodded and for a few moments neither man said anything; instead, they stared at each other. 

Richard finally apologized, before he said - “I guess I’m going to gave to go.”

“Yeah,” Paul said, and he almost grimaced at the disappointment in his tone.

“Sorry. Excuse me,” Richard said, before he leant in, warm hand suddenly cupping Paul’s cheek as he pressed a kiss against Paul’s mouth.

Paul closed his eyes, after a brief, surprised pause; he returned the kiss, pleased to find that Richard’s mouth was as soft as it looked. Richard, it turned out, was a really good kisser, and Paul thought that though Richard had probably intended the kiss to be brief, it turned into a far longer one, with the soft slick slide of tongues alongside one another. Richard broke the kiss first, before he leant his forehead against Paul's own. Again they remained silent, but that time, it was a companionable silence.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all evening,” Richard confessed, quietly. “I’m sorry; I fucked up, didn’t I? I shouldn’t have overstepped my boundaries.”

“No boundaries were stepped over,” Paul assured him. “I don’t know if you remember, but I was kissing you back.” 

Richard's laughter was a quiet rumble hanging in the air between them; his movement came quick and fast and his kiss was faster still, but it was there and real all the same. Their parting, when it came, was sad, almost, or so it seemed to Paul, as though they both were reluctant to be parted. As he watched Richard drive away he still could feel Richard's lips against his own, the feel of the other man’s tongue stroking gently against his, and the weight of the other man’s hands upon his hips. Paul couldn't remember another time when he’d felt quite as happy as he did that evening. 

:::

Richard was as good as his word and arrived at the coffee shop at his usual time on Thursday. Although he looked as tired as he ever did after work, his smile was genuine and he proved more talkative than he had on previous visits; their usual note passing was dispensed with in favour of actual conversation. Paul was glad to note that their conversations were as interesting and as unaffected as they had been on their date; Richard even leant across the counter to kiss him goodbye when he left. That left Paul with a warm feeling that lasted long after he’d retired to bed that night.

:::

Their date at the cinema was as pleasurable as Richard would have hoped; once again, Paul was early, yet once they both had settled in their seats, they didn’t get to watch much of the actual film. Paul was just as interested in kissing as Richard himself was, mouths meeting and parting in the darkness of the back row, hands laced together as they ignored the majority of all that had happened onscreen.

They were talking and laughing on the way out of the cinema, where they stopped to grab a quick snack of Currywurst from a street vendor, mouths stilled from conversation as they hungrily gobbled their food. Their walk back to their cars was unhurried and filled with laughter still and their passing, though still reluctant, was happier and filled with warmth. 

The weeks soon wound out and unfurled into a couple of months and their relationship grew stronger and ever closer. Their kisses, hesitant and exploratory at first, soon became deeper and more meaningful, embraces lingering and warmer as time went by. Richard’s birthday drew near, and Paul, eager to do something special, invited the other man over to his apartment, for a special home-cooked meal. 

The night of Richard's birthday dawned, and whilst both men had talked upon the phone earlier in the day, Paul still felt a frisson of nervousness course through his veins at the very thought of Richard being in his apartment. It would be the first time that the other man would ever have seen it and Paul was suddenly worried that it might not be good enough nor live up to the other man’s expectations. He meticulously cleaned the place at least twice before lunchtime, before he went over his plans for what he was going to cook for Richard. He wanted to cook something nice, but not too showy and eventually settled on a thick piece of steak, with home-cooked chunky chips instead. He’d already bought a bottle of red wine for the occasion, and Richard's gift of a brand new shirt was waiting for him, already wrapped. 

The steak was well on the way to being fully cooked when Paul heard a hesitant rapping of knuckles against his front door, before the bell rang; Paul wiped his hands hastily upon the tea towel beside him, before he hurried to the door, and opened it. Richard, on the other side of the wooden barrier, looked just as nervous and exhilarated as Paul himself felt. 

“Hi, Reesh,” Paul said, brightly, as a sick surge of nervousness surged from his stomach into his throat. “Please, come in.”

He stepped aside to allow Richard enough time to enter, before the other man did so, stopping to press a warm kiss against Paul's mouth. Paul closed the door firmly with one hand, whilst he still was kissing the other man, lips working against lips as Richard propped his hands against Paul’s hips. Paul felt Richard slide one hand from his hip so that it shored up against his butt, pressure warm and pleasant against him. Paul lifted his hands and rested one of them on the back of Richard’s neck, feeling the first stirrings of arousal coil through his abdomen. 

Richard was the first to break away, to rest his forehead against Paul’s own, breath mingling as they stood there, silently, companionable, Rihcard’s hand still pressed firmly against Paul’s butt. 

“Something smells good,” Richard finally said, quietly, breath warm against Paul’s lips. “And while you do smell good, I actually meant the food.” 

Paul laughed at him and rested one hand against Richard’s cheek.

“I was gonna make some smart-ass remark about that, actually,” Paul admitted, and his words made Richard grin. “D’you wanna come through? To the kitchen, I mean. Dinner’s almost ready to be served.”

“Okay,” Richard said, with a nod, as he finally stepped away yet his hand remained firmly seated upon Paul’s hip as he followed the other man into the kitchen. “What is it, anyway? Smells like steak.”

“It smells like that because that’s exactly is what it s,” Paul snorted, affectionately. “With home-cooked chunky chips.” 

“You cooked it?” Richard asked. “You didn’t have to go so much bother.”

“I work in a coffee shop, Reesh,” Paul said. “I am required to do some cooking there, you know; I enjoy it. Besides, if I can’t cook for my own partner, then I don’t know what I can do.” 

“Thank you,” Richard said, and he sounded touched, as though he hadn’t expected Paul to go to so much trouble on his behalf. 

“I hope you like it,” Paul said, as he gestured to one of the chairs that nestled against the kitchen table . “Take a seat.”

“Thanks,” Richard replied, as the chair scraped against the tiled floor with an almost painful screech. “I forgot to say, you’ve got a lovely place here. It’s cosy.” 

“Messy is what it is,” Paul said, with a snort. 

“No, it’s nice,” Richard insisted, defensively. “It looks like you spend a lot of time here. I don’t mind that to sound so offensive, by the way.”

“No offense taken, ‘cos it’s true,” Paul said, with a grin and a glance over one shoulder. “If I’m not here, then I’m at the diner. Thank God I like it here.” 

Richard joined in with the laughter, but it was just as much polite as it was amused. Paul knew that Richard couldn’t exactly relate; their jobs were so different, yet both could be equally stressful. He stopped beside Richard and pecked a kiss against the other man’s forehead on his way past, kitchen gloves already dangling from one hand. 

He could feel Richard's eyes upon him as he removed the steak and chips from the oven, hot delicious scents wafting further around the room as he did so. He expertly flipped the food out onto two waiting plates before he slid one across the table towards the other man. Richard inhaled appreciatively whilst Paul studiously served the wine, before he placed his own plate and wine in front of his own seat Richard had already started to eat by the time that Paul sat down, eyes partially closed in appreciation whilst he chewed. Richard caught Paul staring at him, and smiled around the food in his mouth. Paul popped a chunky chip into his mouth, and waited whilst Richard swallowed his mouthful; he could tell by the look in the other man’s eyes that he wanted to say something. 

“This is fucking good, Paulchen,” Richard said, with stark conviction warming his voice.

Paul grinned at that and nodded out his grateful acceptance of Richard’s words.

“Thank you; I'm glad you like it,” he said. 

Richard smiled even as he popped one of the chips into his mouth and chewed; the noise he made was almost orgasmic and Paul had to stop his laughter from spilling from his lips. He solved the problem by cramming another chip into his mouth; they continued to eat in silence. Paul then served up a home made apple pie, complete with a dollop of ice cream, with real vanilla sprinkled liberally throughout the cold treat. Richard appeared to enjoy the dessert as much as the main meal and Paul began to feel himself relaxing, as though he’d managed to make an impression upon Richard, even though he hadn’t really needed to; he suspected that Richard would have appreciated it if he’d been served a plate of humble pie and mash. 

Richard helped Paul to wash the used plates and glasses once they‘d finished, before Paul led him by the hand through to the living area. He bade Richard sit, before he flipped on the TV. He pulled out a selection of DVD’s, before Richard selected Terminator 2. Paul slid in the DVD, and walked back to join Richard on the sofa, whilst plucking Richard's gift-wrapped shirt and card from the table.

“These are for you, darling,” Paul muttered, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden, worried as though Richard might not like the shirt.

“Thanks,” Richard said, before he began opening the gift. 

He slid out the shirt from the crinkling, rustling paper, and Paul watched as a sudden grin passed over Richard's face. The shirt itself was made from soft black velvet, with the tiniest amount of silver thread running through it, forming a vague floral pattern.

“This is great, Paul,” Richard said, and the smile, when he turned it upon Paul, was genuine. “I love it.”

“Oh good. I wasn’t sure if it was entirely - you - if you know what I mean,” Paul said, with an embarrassed smile. 

“No, it’s great; it‘s definitely me,” Richard assured him again. 

He opened the card, after first setting the shirt aside, before he smiled at the silly cartoon duck on the front of it. He read the inscription inside, which was, typically for Paul, a rude limerick and sudden laughter emanated through the air, almost drowning out the opening credits of the film. 

“Thanks, liebling,” Richard said, as he leant in to press warm lips against Paul’s own. 

Paul returned the kiss, glad for the fact that Richard deepened it, and seemed reluctant to even let Paul go; Paul smiled into the kiss, and felt Richard return the smile against him before the other man drew away. Paul settled against Richard’s side, before Richard tapped at Paul’s abdomen, gently.

“Sit forward a minute,” Richard said.

Paul gave him a quizzical glance before he did as Richard asked, leaning forward; Richard draped one arm around Paul’s shoulders before Paul settled against him again, the weight of the other man’s arm pleasurable and warm around his shoulders. 

Paul didn’t protest when he felt the first curlings of Richard's fingers against his chin, that tilted his face to the other man‘s; they started to kiss and Paul lost himself to the feel of Richard's mouth against his, and the slide of Richard's tongue against his own. Arousal began to pulse through him, gently at first and then more insistent; he moaned lowly into Richard's mouth as the first stirrings of his erection pushed his cock tightly against the front of his boxers. Richard drew away and his eyes were blown; Paul also could see the very prominent bulge of his lover’s erection tenting the front of Richard's trousers. 

“I’m not even watching this, are you?” Paul asked, with a rueful smile as he pointed towards the television.

“Nah,” Richard returned, but even that one word seemed to come with an effort. “I want you, Paulchen.” 

Paul nodded, before he stood a little awkwardly; he clicked the DVD player and TV off, before he beckoned for Richard to follow him. 

“Bedroom’s this way,” he said, throwing a wicked grin over his shoulder when Richard crowded eagerly against his back, erection pressed hard against Paul’s butt. “Someone’s eager.” 

“You’re a fucking tease,” Richard said, as he pressed a kiss against Paul’s neck. 

Paul closed his eyes, breath a little laboured as he led Richard into the bedroom, and clicked on the lights.

“Leave them off,” Richard said, arousal turning his tone dark and purring. “Too harsh for - you know.” 

He flapped his hand towards the bed and Paul laughed, before he flicked the lights back off again. He felt Richard crowding into him again, the soft wet press of the other man’s mouth against his neck as Richard slid his hand down to cup Paul’s erection beneath his palm. Paul groaned, bucked his hips instinctively up against Richard's palm as the other man began to stroke him through the covering of his trousers, palm bearing down hard against Paul. Paul was panting uncontrollably by the time that Richard began to undo his belt and flies, hand soon returning to slide inside Paul's boxers. Paul gave an involuntary little cry when Richard's fingers folded around his cock, warm and slightly shaking as Richard began to stroke him, hesitantly at first and then more confidently when Paul did not push him away nor reject him. Arousal hung heavily in the air between them and Paul felt the pressure of Richard's erection in the small of his back.

“Fuck, Paul, you're gorgeous,” Richard mumbled against his neck. “So sexy like this.”

Paul made an incoherent noise, too far gone to make sense now; all he wanted was release, and Richard inside him when he came. Then he found his tongue.

“Please, Reesh, want you to fuck me,” he said, voice unrecognisable to him as being his own.

Richard laughed against him but didn’t immediately let go of Paul’s cock. It seemed almost as though Richard's lust had stopped his thoughts for a moment, before the other man finally drew away. Paul undressed as quickly as he could, hands and fingers fumbling in the darkness. He could hear Richard swiftly undressing beside him, curses falling into the darkness when buttons refused to come undone and then the swift hiss of Richard's flies dragging open.

Paul was already on the bed when Richard joined him, body heavier than Paul had expected when the other man laid partially atop him; Paul pressed the lube and condom he’d fished from the bedside cabinet into Richard’s hand, and smiled when he heard Richard's laughter.

“Eager, aren’t you?” Richard asked, even as he uncapped the lube.

“Not the only one,” Paul panted out, eager to have Richard inside him. 

He drew his legs up and felt the first fumbling press of Richard's slick hand against him; he hissed when Richard's finger slid inside him, before he panted out a curse when the other man didn’t move fast enough for him. He could feel the weight of Richard’s erection rubbing against him with every move that the other man made, before Richard finally eased away. The condom wrapper ripped and Paul heard Richard's trembling fumbling in the darkness before his warmth returned, to lay upon Paul. 

Paul arched up into Richard, hands resting between his lover’s shoulder-blades, heels hiking up to rest in the small of Richard’s back; the other man slowly guided himself inside Paul, slowly, before waiting for Paul to accept him, to relax fully beneath him.

Paul wriggled slightly in impatience and earned himself another laugh in the darkness, before Richard finally began to move, hips thrusting experimentally against Paul’s own, soon gaining in confidence at Paul’s pleasured groans rumbling in the darkness. Richard’s hands and mouth mapped out Paul’s body and Paul returned the favour, fingers enjoying the feel of Richard's soft curves and the swell of the other man’s ass beneath his palms.

Paul reached between them and began to stroke himself, desperately needing to come; his hand matched that of Richard's movements and he shouted Richard's name when he finally came, spilling out across his palm and across their abdomens in heated waves. He heard Richard swearing in the darkness, arousal clear in his tone before the other man climaxed against him, movements erratic and jerky before Richard collapsed partially against him.

“Fucking hell, that was fantastic,” Richard breathed against Paul’s shoulder.

“Hmm,” Paul agreed, with a smile that Richard couldn't see. “You were.” 

Richard's laughter was warm and the kiss he planted against Paul’s shoulder was wet and sudden. Paul almost mourned the loss of Richard's body despite the weight of him when his lover rolled away; Richard didn’t move far however, body soon returning to press against Paul’s side, hands still touching Paul’s body. Paul turned onto his side to curl up into Richard’s warmth, needing the contact and the comfort of the other man’s kisses in the darkness. Richard's appreciative moan was swallowed by Paul’s mouth pressing eagerly against his.

“Stay with me, tonight,” Paul murmured against Richard's lips.

“Yes,” was all Richard said, in response. 

:::

Richard looked adorably tousled and well-fucked when Paul woke in the morning, eyes open yet sleepy and satisfied in the morning light. Paul knew that he couldn't look any better than the other man did, and they exchanged grins and chuckles.

“Morning,” Paul said.

“Morning to you,” Richard said, even as he rolled closer to Paul.

Paul felt Richard's erection pressing against his thigh and he rolled wordlessly onto his back, legs drawn up in silent invitation. Richard wasted no time in preparing his lover, before laying atop him; their early morning love-making was slower than the night before, more tender and less desperate and needy yet no less pleasurable for it. 

Paul smiled up at Richard when it was over, before he said - “I love you.” 

Richard looked surprised at that, and Paul cursed himself for being seven kinds of foolish, before the surprise was replaced by sudden joy, and pleasure.

“Me, too,” Richard said, before he grimaced. “I was talking about you, obviously, not myself. I love you.” 

Paul laughed at that before he said - “I knew what you meant, darling.” 

Richard laughed at that, but said no more. 

:::

Paul’s birthday rolled around, swiftly followed by Christmas. Both occasions were spent in Richard's apartment, doing little more than eating and making love. By New Year’s, they were making plans to move in together; Paul decided to leave his apartment behind, cosy though it was, to live with Richard; the other man’s apartment was larger, more comfortable and was in a better part of Berlin than where Paul was used to living. 

Spring dawned, and the first hints of freshness began to push the dreariness away from Berlin’s streets. Paul stared down at the streets below, at the flow of pedestrians and traffic. Richard was readying himself for his shift at the hospital and Paul knew that he, too, would have to get ready for the coffee shop. 

“What are you thinking about?” Richard asked, as he joined Paul at the window.

Even though Richard was smiling, Paul could see the worry in his eyes, as though the other man thought that perhaps Paul wasn’t happy. 

“Nothing much,” Paul said, with a reassuring smile. “I’m just happy, is all.” 

“Happy? Well, that’s good,” Richard said, with some relief. “Just as long as you’re happy, then I am, too.”

He leant in for a kiss, which Paul duly and willingly gave and it was some moments before either man could convince themselves to part from one another. 

“I’d best go or I’ll be late,” Richard finally said, with a grimace. “See you tonight at the coffee shop?” 

“I’ll be there,” Paul promised. “Same as always.” 

Richard merely smiled and patted Paul on the butt, before leaving. Paul watched him go, as contentment rolled through him, warm and lazy like a well-petted cat. Whilst things had changed considerably in the year since he’d first met Richard, Paul knew that it was for the better. He had no complaints and Richard, too, seemed equally happy. Paul was glad to note that Richard seemed to smile more than he had in the early days when first they’d met, more relaxed even; he also seemed a little less tired whenever he came into the coffee shop and home. Paul could only assume that Richard was benefiting from the relationship, getting as much out of it as Paul himself was. Paul nodded to himself; he knew that things couldn't possibly get any better than they already were and he couldn’t complain about that.


End file.
